


White Winter Hymnal

by TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Cute Mycroft, Fluff, Ice Skating, Ice rink, M/M, Snow, cute greg, they're perfect for each other, winter fluff, winter holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToMystrade
Summary: Mycroft meets Greg in the picturesque snowy town square. Greg surprises him by taking him ice skating!
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	White Winter Hymnal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heyhey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyhey/gifts).



> It may be a new year but it's still Winter and freezing outside so I'm still putting out these little heart warmers.
> 
> Song - [White Winter Hymnal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o10drRI3VQ0)

Mycroft pushes his hands further into his coat pockets and picks his shoulders up around his ears. He blinks past the snow at everyone else similarly bundled up for the true winter weather. They are all huddled; teenagers in giggling groups, the elderly in their cute couples, and everyone in between into their scarves as they duck and hustle through the crowds. Mycroft realises he’s smiling softly at everyone around him but doesn’t dial it down as he usually would. He’s usually more in control of himself out in public like this, but he has to admit that the atmosphere has melted him somewhat. He even finds himself thinking of the snow as magical.

To be fair, he hasn’t spent much time in the snow before so he doesn’t have the same dull, negative thoughts as he has had from behind glass windows. He’s never had reason to venture out into it. He’s always felt the cold more than others so was kept safe from the frostier weather as a child and as he grew up he never saw the point in doing otherwise.

He is so lost in the quiet joy of others that he doesn’t realise what is right in front of him. He is knocked off balance by someone in a rush. Their shoulders connect and while the other person keeps walking without a word of apology Mycroft falls into someone else. Arms come around him and stop him from hitting the snow covered ground.

“Woah, there. You okay?” The man asks at the same time as Mycroft exclaims, “Oh gosh, my apologies! I’m so sorry!”

Mycroft attempts to right himself and unburden himself from whichever stranger he has landed on but his feet find ice instead and he falls further into the man. The kind stranger catches him again and offers him some real concern but Mycroft is uncharacteristically blustered by the turn of events. He uses the strength of the arms around him to pull himself upright, apologies on his lips the whole while. 

“Mycroft?”

His name startles him and he finally looks up to find that the man he’d fallen onto was the very man he was here to meet. The universe thinks itself funny.

“Gregory,” Mycroft breathes a sigh of relief. He still shuffles a little awkwardly which makes him notice that he’s still wrapped in Greg’s arms. He coughs a little but Greg’s only response is to smile wide.

“Thought you’d never make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” It’s the truth and yet he knows if he wasn’t already blushing from the cold, he would be red from embarrassment at how easy it is to say so.

They smile ridiculously at each other for a moment too long. Neither of them notice, though. When the sounds of those rushing around them come back to them Greg simply steps back, pats Mycroft’s arms and then holds one out in front of them.

“Shall we?”

Mycroft nods, his smile taming a little. Greg leads the way across the square until they reach a huge temporary gazebo erected in the corner. What Mycroft sees first, however, is the great ice rink outside of the gazebo.

Mycroft blinks a few times at the surprise. Of course, he knew that this was here. For once he just didn’t draw the clues together to reach this conclusion. He finds himself doing that a lot around Gregory. He doesn’t so much mind the surprises when he trusts who and where they come from.

“You skate, right?” Greg asks. He’s nervous. Mycroft doesn’t have to be a genius to see the hesitation on Greg’s face. He thinks he’s made a mistake and Mycroft can’t have that, even if the man has picked up on his own nerves.

“I haven’t had the occasion.” He chooses his words wisely to encourage him, though the shy smile that comes with the words comes without thought. His genuine reaction seems to be what brings Greg’s enthusiasm back full swing.

“I kind of made up some stories in my head about a little Mycroft teaching his teeny brother how to skate on the lake by the old Holmes house.”

Mycroft chuckles. “No lake. No skating.”

“Then we’re fixing that today!”

It’s said with a toothy grin so Mycroft doesn’t mind at all when Greg drags him inside the gazebo where they swap out their shoes for skates.

With an encouraging pat on the back, Greg allows Mycroft to pretend he isn’t gracelessly hobbling over the rubber mats out of the gazebo and towards the ice rink. Mycroft’s face screams apprehension again even before he is clipped by a few excited children followed by disinterested parents. As much as he really does want to do this with Gregory, he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t had the occasion. 

Greg just grins at him this time. “You’ll be fine.”

Mycroft doesn’t look convinced, staring at the ice. He can’t help it.

Laughing a little, Greg nudges their shoulders together. “Come on. I promise I won’t let you go.” Then he holds his hand up in offering.

Mycroft looks at the hand and then slides his gaze up to Greg’s eyes. He smiles hesitantly, reassured by the affection he finds there and the certainty of his promise. He smiles back and takes the offered hand and grips the low barrier surrounding the rink before he takes a wobbly step onto the ice through a small opening where there might have been a door..

Greg follows close behind. He would have anyway but he doesn’t really have a choice with Mycroft gripping him so tightly.

They both take a few steps, Mycroft holding onto the side as well as his hand. Greg can see Mycroft grow more confident as he calculates his own balance on the slippery surface. When Mycroft straightens, Greg pries him from the side and shows him how to slide as he steps until he’s skating alongside him.

Soon enough, Mycroft is laughing in surprise at his own ability, even though Greg has never known anything Mycroft cannot do, and Greg is cheering loudly as they spin around each other.

After a good few laps Greg is certain that Mycroft would be perfectly able to stand and skate by himself but it brightens his soul that Mycroft doesn’t let go of his hand the whole while. He squeezes their connected hands and pulls Mycroft into a spin that he wouldn’t have dared tug a beginner into. Mycroft slides into it as effortlessly as Greg knew he would. They end up pressed chest to chest, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, smiling ridiculously.

Greg grips Mycroft’s elbows and pushes one foot out which sets them both in a slow spin, a tight circle around each other, facing each other. Mycroft grips his biceps in turn, his smile unwavering.

It’s the perfect movie moment. The one where the two lead characters suddenly forget the world around them and one confesses their love for the other, only hoping that the feelings are returned.

Greg isn’t so brave.

Well, maybe a little, but as usual Mycroft helps.

Despite the public location, they both lean in at the same time to press their lips together. It isn’t the first time but it feels like it.

They part slowly, more red in their cheeks from blushing than the bite of winter air now. Mycroft lets his grip go to smooth a thumb over Greg’s cheek. He swallows hard.

“I…”

Greg twists his face to lean into the touch. It doesn’t bother him that Mycroft can’t finish his thought. He understands.

“I know. Me too.” And before either of them can think to work themselves up about incomplete confessions - because they really aren’t incomplete - they spin each other by their joint hands and glide back into the crowd making laps about the rink.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, Pasha!


End file.
